


To and From Caulfield

by Sismyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Bad Jokes, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sismyn/pseuds/Sismyn
Summary: The awkward trip up to Caulfield





	To and From Caulfield

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this before the finale *shrug emoji* I'm not good with tagging but... Probably fine. Enjooooy

"So... are you guys, uh, good then?" Kyle asked awkwardly. 

Michael put one of his boots on the back of Kyle's seat. "Don't know what you're talking about. Who isn't good with aliens?"

Alex took a deep breath, but said nothing. 

"Well, besides the government, apparently."

Kyle twisted around. "Do you need me to move my seat up?"

"Nope, this is fine."

"Put your seatbelt on, Guerin," Alex said. He hesitated but did as asked. 

Kyle turned back and began to dig in his bag. "I got snacks and water bottles."

"Snacks? Why do we need snacks? How long am I supposed to be stuck in this car with you?"

"It's a couple hours away. Caulfield was a prison, and was allegedly abandoned due to the distance," Alex said. 

Michael groaned and put up his other boot. "You I could stand for that long, but this guy?"

"Are you a child? Put your feet down, man. I can move up if you want."

"Guerin," Alex said, giving him a look through the rearview mirror.

He put his feet down but crossed his arms. 

"So you guys  _ are _ fine. That's cool," Kyle said lightly. 

"What's he on about?"

"I don't know."

Michael leaned over the center console and held out his hand. "Does this thing have an auxiliary cord? If you're driving, and you have the food, I want the music."

"You can have the food," Kyle said, "I made a road trip playlist."

"Oh my god," Alex muttered. "If you guys fight over this I'm going to pull over."

"Okay, Dad," Michael said loudly. "Gimme the food."

Kyle gladly dropped the bag in his hand. Michael rifled through it. "Damn, I should have brought that six-pack. Hey Private, turn the car around, you know you want to."

"We're not going back for beer. Hand me a water." He passed up a bottle. Kyle fiddled with his phone but finally got his playlist going.

"There's a bottle of nail polish remover in there, but--" Michael had already found and chugged half of it. "You should save it in case something happens."

"Why would something happen? We're not gonna find anything."

"Maybe you didn't know about any more aliens because they're so far away. Besides, what about Noah?"

Michael frowned deeply. "How'd you hear about him?"

"Jenna Cameron. Hard to believe."

He snorted and downed another quarter of the acetone. "Yeah, hopefully Isobel will let me get something useful out of him later. He's in a stasis pod right now dying of Liz's poison. Just too bad he can't feel it in there."

"He'd be your dad's poster child for body snatching killer aliens," Kyle said, shaking his head.

"Dad's on the other side of the planet, he doesn't get anything."

"He is?" Michael said with interest.

"You didn't hear about how Alex basically sent his old man into exile?" Kyle said, clapping their driver on the shoulder. "Oh, you gotta show him the clubhouse."

"You exiled him?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Project Shepherd was shut down years ago. He'd been running it against orders with family money. I told him if he didn't shut it down and leave Roswell I'd have him dishonorably discharged."

"Nice. It might just be my hand speaking, but I think you should get him discharged anyway."

"You're leaving out the best part," Kyle said.

"I am?"

"That you whipped him with your crutch!"

Michael laughed. "Okay, I guess exile and crutch whipping is good enough."

"I had tried to be polite," Alex said.

"Why even bother when he never extended the same to you?"

"I guess because he didn't." 

Michael nodded and opened a bag of chips. "Cool Ranch, why?"

"It's thematic," Kyle said.

"How?"

He changed the song to  _ Wanted Dead Or Alive _ , and the other two shouted at him, but all three were dramatically singing along by the first chorus.

"Fine, how are Oreos thematic, then?"

"They're milk's favorite cookie!" Kyle said, aghast.

"You didn't bring any milk," Michael said through the cookie in his mouth. 

"That's not stopping you, is it?"

"Uh, pass me a pack of Oreos," Alex said, looking back at him for a moment. Michael stuck out his tongue at him, cookie still intact. "Gross. An unopened pack."

"Me too."

"You guys are so needy." But he passed up two packages of Oreos anyway. "What else is in here? If it's going to take so long why didn't you bring real food?"

"There're protein bars in there."

"I wouldn't call that real food, at least for those of us without jock brains."

"There's a Foreman in the trunk," Alex interrupted before either of them could go off about high school. "Whenever we get hungry, we can pull over and grill something."

And of course it was Michael who said, "Have you got hot dogs in the trunk, too?" But he seemed to mean it as sincere question, still picking through the snacks as he was. 

"They're in a cooler."

After a moment, Kyle said, "Aw, man. I didn't pick out any grilling music."

"Pretty sure there's no such thing."

"I was pretty sure there was no such thing as aliens, but here you are, occasionally kicking the back of my seat."

"I'm beginning to regret also bringing waffle batter." The other two stared at him. "What? The grill is also a waffle press."

"Are there buns or do I have to eat my hotdog on a waffle?" Michael asked. 

"Don't knock it till you try it."

"You've had a hotdog on a waffle?"

"It's practically chicken and waffles."

"It is absolutely not."

"Take a joke, guys. There are buns." Alex clarified, "And no, I've never put a hot dog on a waffle."

Michael snorted. 

"What?"

"Phrasing. Nothing!"

Alex rolled his eyes. 

"We're all adults here." Michael pulled apart an Oreo to eat just the filling. 

"You're wasting a perfectly good cookie," Kyle said.

"You can have the rest."

"Never mind."

"That's what I thought," Michael said, popping the cream-free cookies into his mouth. 

"Don't eat all the Oreos, Guerin," Alex said.

"Sure thing, Manes." He knew better than to toss a pack of cookies at the head of somebody driving, so he threw the pack at Kyle instead. 

"Why do you guys call each other like that?" he asked, ripping into the Oreos himself. 

"Yeah, why do we do that,  _ Manes _ ?" Michael leaned on his fist. "'Cause, personally, I'm just doing it to be a dick right now."

"Do what?" Alex said blankly.

"You always call him Guerin."

"Yeah? I always have."

"Isn't that kind of... weird?"

Alex glanced at his passengers. "I don't think it is. He's the only Guerin in Roswell."

Michael sat back and opened another pack of cookies, grumbling. 

"Just seems kind of impersonal, that's all," Kyle said carefully. 

"It's not like we know each other that well," Michael blatantly lied in the most offhand voice either of them had ever heard. 

"Damn," Kyle said. "Did you tell him to lie about your relationship or something?"

Michael dropped his cookies. "I didn't tell him  _ anything _ ! How does everybody know?"

Alex only shook his head.

"Hate to break it to you, but you guys aren't exactly subtle. It's pretty obvious if you think about it for like a minute."

"Ugh," Michael said, sinking into his seat, "I'm never doing secrets again."

"Wait, who's everybody?"

"Max figured it out. Maria, apparently. This guy." He pressed his boot into Kyle's seat again. "Oh, that's it. Give everyone else a minute though."

"You know, the seat belt really doesn't help much at that angle."

"Whatever," he said, sitting up. "We've only broken up about eight times now, so I don't see why it matters anymore."

"You're  _ not _ together?"

"What, you wanna be a third wheel, here? As if this isn't bad enough?"

They noticed the jeep slowing down. "Who's hungry?" Alex asked as he pulled over.

"Starving," Michael declared. He tumbled out the door as soon as the vehicle stopped and went to the trunk. 

Kyle squinted at Alex. "You don't  _ seem _ like you want to be broken up. Neither does he."

"We haven't talked about it." Alex turned the car off. "Not since he said he wants to leave the planet." 

"What?"

Alex got out. "And now isn't the time."

Kyle freed his phone and joined the other two at the back of the jeep, where Michael was already digging through the cooler. "Oh, man. No reception."

Alex pointed at a toolbox. "There's a satellite phone in there if needed."

"Coming prepared!" Michael held up a bottle of syrup. "Still not sure about the hot dog and waffle combo, though."

"You don't have to have them at the same time," Kyle said. "Not sure I even want a hot dog. Who knows what's in them? I do want... to be right back." 

He made a beeline for a bush, the only bush around for miles. 

"Too snobby for a hot dog. Why is he even here?" Michael asked, selecting two of the choicest dogs.

"Jim Valenti is connected to this somehow, too. He's got skin in it as well." The grill plugged into an outlet built into the jeep's interior. 

"But does he  _ need _ to be here? He's a dick," Michael said flatly.

"He's fine, Guerin."

He crossed his arms. "I remember differently."

"It's in the past, okay?" Alex put the two hot dogs on the grill. 

"Uh-huh. And so are we."

Kyle was right. He didn't want them to be broken up. He was the one who kept leaving, but he wasn't going to ever again. The edge of bitterness in Michael's voice maybe meant that he felt the same way. Even if it wasn't the right time. "Look, Guerin--"

"How damn long does it take to pee, anyway?" Michael called over to the bush, "Hey, Valenti, you need a catheter or a diuretic or something?"

Alex rolled the dogs over the grill silently as Kyle jogged back. There'd be a better time.

Michael, however, had been sure Alex was going to break up with him yet again, and he didn't want to hear that from him ever again. He supposed Kyle being there was good for something. 

As for Kyle, Operation Give Alex and Michael Space for a Real Conversation was a failure. For now. He was summoned back as a buffer, and what better buffer was there than to talk about the president as they ate?

"Do you think someone told him about Project Shepherd and that's where Space Force came from?" Michael wondered.

"No way, his solution would be a space wall. But the real illegal aliens have been here all along, so it'd make no difference," said Kyle.

"I don't think he knows. Shepherd was top-grade. He's just an ignoramus."

"Oh, Alex, breaking out the big words!" Michael stuffed the last of his hot dog in his mouth. "He'd never understand what you're saying."

"Can't understand what you're saying, either, with your mouth full of mystery meat," Kyle said. He'd opted for a waffle with a side of protein bar. 

Alex and Michael had one of each, though Michael was against Alex having a waffle. 

("What? Why not?" "You'll ruin the joke!" "What joke? I made the batter, I'm having a damn waffle.")

(Sometimes the best way to end Michael's "jokes" was to pretend not to understand them.)

(Even if it was kind of funny.)

(But Alex really wanted a waffle.)

As a result, Kyle finished his lunch first. He tried to leave them alone again. Maybe with some food in them, they'd be more amicable. "I'll be back in a bit."

Alex could see right through this, and he appreciated it to a degree, but Michael did not want to talk to him. He looked cautious. Alex was sure that if he tried to speak seriously, he'd immediately call Kyle back over again.

Michael shredded the waffle to give his hands something to do as he stared at Alex. The silence was abrupt and quickly became awkward.

"How much farther to Caulfield?" 

"About an hour." Michael stopped tearing his waffle to hold his left hand against his leg. A flash of pain crossed his face, but he quickly hid it. "Your hand?"

"It's just stiff. It's all right." He dunked a chunk of waffle in syrup as Alex frowned.

"Why didn't you ever get it fixed?"

"Max asked me the same thing two days ago. I couldn't exactly go to a hospital."

"But Max can heal, can't he?"

Michael looked at Alex and didn't want to tell him the whole truth. He could look at him and forget hopelessness for a while. But he could tell him part of it. "It's slightly suspicious when injuries miraculously heal overnight. Learned that the hard way when he healed me from an "exorcism" as a kid. Got it back tenfold."

"I'm sorry."

Michael only shrugged and finished up his waffle.

"No, Guerin, really. I'm sorry."

"You said so back then, Alex. It's still not your fault your dad's an asshole." He considered him carefully. "You should do the goth look again. It was cute."

"I can't pull it off anymore. Cute? Come on."

"Right. You're far too manly. Sorry for calling you cute, Private."

"No, I mean..." Alex frowned and held out his hand. "Can we actually talk?"

Michael shook his head. "I get it, man, "world ends with a whimper" and all, message received. Please. I really don't need to keep hearing that we're over." He grabbed their paper plates. "Are you done eating? Great, me too. Let's go. Valenti, where's that trash bag?"

Alex sighed and got back into the jeep, where Kyle had apparently been waiting the whole time, playing solitaire on his phone. 

"Harsh, man. Did you actually say that?"

"I was provoked," Alex answered shortly. Michael shut the trunk. "Like I said, now's not the time."

Michael climbed in the back behind Kyle and shut the door. Everyone buckled in, they drove off again. "So how fast can this thing go? I want to know if I could win in a race."

"In your truck? Doubtful," said Kyle.

"No, running alongside," Michael said, dripping sarcasm. "Yes, in my truck. Why doubtful?"

"Have you seen your truck?"

"Have you seen this jeep?" Alex interrupted. "I've  _ been _ going top speed."

"Good to know."

"Why did we go in the jeep then? My van is faster."

"Your van doesn't have a grill in the trunk."

"But it's faster."

"My truck would win against your van."

" _ And _ the jeep is armored."

"Safety is a virtue," Michael said, and he leaned on his hand to look out the window.

"The van has a bunch of safety awards, that's why I got it."

"I'll take the twenty extra minutes for military-grade protection, no offense."

"Twenty more minutes? Hurrah."

"More like forty."

"Damn it." Michael crossed his arms and leaned his head back. "I'm gonna nap then. Don't talk about me."

"Why would we talk about you?" Kyle asked. 

"I don't know. Just don't."

They waited until Five Finger Death Punch's  _ Bad Company  _ ended before talking about him.

"If I didn't say it before, I am sorry about antagonizing you in high school. If I could go back and kick my own ass, I would."

Alex smiled. "I could kick your ass now, so don't worry about that. You've demonstrated that you've changed. Keep it up."

"I hope Michael sees that soon, too. Wouldn't want your boyfriend to hate me."

"He's not-- He doesn't--" Well, he wanted the first to be true, and he was sure the second was. "It'll take time. On both."

"Oh my god. You could both kick my ass." Kyle turned to make sure Michael was still asleep. He'd slumped over a bit. There was no way anyone would fake that position on purpose. "He could kill me with his  _ brain _ ."

"Man, I was joking. Neither of us would."

"No, I know, but have you guys thought of becoming vigilantes? I'd read the shit out of that." 

"You read?"

"Well apparently I'm the nerd here, so yes, I read."

"Uh huh. What do you read?"

Kyle and Alex actually still had the same taste in books, so they talked about them for the rest of the trip. 

Caulfield really did look abandoned, or at least, the vehicles outside did. Alex parked near a broken down school bus. "I've got some tools in my bag in the back. Guerin, wake up, we're here."

"Ugh," he replied, but hopped out after a moment. No bushes in sight, he made a beeline for the back of the bus. "Just a second. I'm listening."

Alex took out his heat camera tablet and met Kyle at the hood of the jeep. 

 

* * *

 

The fire reflected in their eyes, and Alex looked at Michael, gently touched his arm to get his attention. "I'm sorry, Guerin. Is there something I can do?"

He shied away from his touch and looked at him slowly. He was clearly still inside, mentally. He was burning with them. He was going to boil over. "Take... Take me home."

They silently returned to the jeep, and Kyle pulled out a cheap backpack and handed it to Michael.

"What's this?"

"I didn't know what we would find. I brought extra, in case--"

Michael climbed into the back of the jeep woodenly with a dozen bottles of acetone. He sat behind the driver's seat this time, Alex's blind spot in the mirror, and spun the cap off the first bottle.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"You probably shouldn't have given him all of those at once."

"I mean... What happened in there, Alex?"

All he had to say was, "That was his mother."

Kyle nodded, and they got in the jeep and drove away. 

There was no comfort to provide. Michael was staring at the ceiling, numb off twelve bottles of nail polish remover, and neither of them could imagine all of the things that had just come together for him only to be ripped away. 

Alex knew it was just one more thing in a long life of awful, and he could only hope it wouldn't finally break him. But they left together. He was alive. There was at least that. Maybe they could go from there.

Kyle was doing mental gymnastics. His father was good, from what he remembered. Why was he ever even at Caulfield? Was he really a fascist? Or was there proof that these aliens had come for war? Their powers were incredible. Sure, Michael and the Evanses were relatively okay, but they were children when they got here. Maybe being in a human culture...

Michael felt like a kid in the system again, too far away from the twins to feel them. Alone. Were his hands shaking? What did it matter? His mind kept going back to his mother. She loved him, she loved him. She would have come for him if she hadn't been trapped. Why was she trapped?

He began to stare at the back of Alex's neck instead of the ceiling. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. But he couldn't feel him like he could feel his siblings, and so he felt alone. He needed to be near them. Hell, he'd settle for Noah.

Michael shifted without their notice. Noah had to know something. He had to have answers. He didn't care what Isobel was going to decide to do with him, he was going to get those answers tonight. Then he'd put him back in the pod. 

Actually, no. He did care. He wasn't going to let anyone else die, even that piece of shit. If Noah was the last one with answers, the last one like him, he lived. 

Alex glanced at the backpack of hard drives in Kyle's lap. Maybe there'd be answers in there. To his questions, and to Michael's. He was almost glad he'd decided to sit in his blindspot. 

The look on his face was heartbreaking.


End file.
